


Fear Of Flying

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Fear of Flying, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harvey is Mike's rock, M/M, Pre-Slash, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey and Mike go on a business trip to LA. Mike is afraid of flying but he doesn't want Harvey to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Of Flying

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](http://www.sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Mike has been to the men’s room three times already in the last 45 minutes. They’re sitting in comfortable leather arm chairs, an espresso and a glass of water in front of each of them, and Harvey is typing away on his laptop. The Delta VIP lounge at JFK is one of the best SkyClubs in the country (if not the world), but their flight to LA is still delayed and they still have to wait.

Harvey looks up when Mike leans back in his chair, groaning quietly. His eyes are closed and there is a thin layer of cold sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Everything okay?" Harvey asks absentmindedly and turns his gaze back to the screen of his laptop.

"Yeah," Mike murmurs and shifts in his chair. "I need to— Excuse me." He gets up quickly and vanishes in the direction of the restrooms once more, leaving a frowning Harvey behind.

When Mike returns a couple of minutes later, pale and with shaking hands, Harvey doesn’t even look up. “You puke?” He asks and reaches for his water.

"Must be something I ate," Mike answers shakily and sits back carefully. "Maybe I should stay here, maybe it would be better if I—"

"Nonsense," Harvey grunts, staring at the monitor. "We’ve discussed this already. I need you there with me. Take a pill. Drink some gin. Whatever.”

Mike inhales deeply. “Wish I could…” He reaches for his glass of water, takes a couple of greedy gulps and nearly chokes on the last one. “Shit,” he curses under his breath and uses his napkin to dab some droplets from his tie and jacket.

Harvey sighs. “Christ, Mike.” He raises his eyebrows and shoots a glance at the other man. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were scared.”

"Shut up," Mike presses through his teeth and closes his eyes. He runs his palms over his thighs a couple of times and then folds his arms in front of his chest. "I wish this didn’t take so long. What’s wrong with that goddamn plane?"

"Plane’s okay, Mike," Harvey mutters. "Maybe just some minor motor problem or some issue with the avionics they’ve to solve before we can take off safely."

"Fuck," Mike mouths and squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

"See?" Harvey grins and drains the last bit of water from his glass when their flight is called a few minutes later. "Come on, rookie. We get to board first."

Mike rises from his chair and picks up his briefcase. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, wiping his mouth with his free hand, before he follows Harvey to the gate.

Once they are on board and have stored their hand luggage away in the overhead compartments, Harvey has opened his laptop again and is already typing when Mike drops into the seat next to him.

Mike immediately buckles his seat belt and runs his hands over his thighs. He takes out the airline magazine from the seat pocket in front of him and starts to leaf through it but closes it and stashes it away again the moment the stewardess walks by their seats and closes the flaps of the overhead compartments.

She smiles at him and he returns her smile weakly. “Sir?” She leans over a little and addresses Harvey again, who doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to fasten your seat belt now. And to switch of your laptop for take-off, please.”

Harvey grunts in a noncommittal way and closes the lid of his laptop. He stores it away in his seat pocket and moves to buckle his seat belt but drops the two loose ends again as soon as the stewardess walks away. He reaches for the paper he’s brought with him, the Financial Times, and unfolds it nonchalantly.

"Would you just put on that goddamn seat belt?" Mike snaps at him and runs a hand through his hair. "Arrogant prick."

“ _Excuse me?_ " Harvey turns to Mike and gives him one of his famous stares. " _Someone_ got up on the wrong side of the bed today?!”

"Just put it on, okay?" Mike replies, suddenly sounding rather defeated.

Harvey just scoffs and turns back to his paper. Mike closes his eyes.

The plane starts to move and taxis to the runway slowly. The scent of gasoline and detergents is heavy in the air and mixes with the ink of Harvey’s newspaper and the smell of his cologne. Mike swallows and his hands fly to the buckle of his seat belt.

"I need to go to the bathroom." He fumbles with the buckle and swears under his breath when it won’t open immediately

"Take a goddamn pill," Harvey grunts and turns another page.

Mike is halfway out of his seat when the stewardess walks by again. “I’m sorry, sir, but you have to remain seated for take-off. You can get up immediately after, once the fasten-your-seat-belt-signs have been switched off.” She smiles at him and walks away again.

"Shit," Mike mutters and drops back into his seat. He refastens his seat belt with trembling fingers.

A few moments later the engines roar and the plane starts to accelerate. Mike grabs the armrests of his seat, squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath. The accelerating force presses him against the back of his seat and he can feel a bead of sweat run down his temple.

When the front wheels of the plane leave the ground, Mike takes a quick panting breath and clears his throat. His hands twitch and he tightens his hold on the armrests.

Soon after that, the rear wheels loose connection to the ground and they’re airborne.

"Mike," Harvey frowns and keeps staring at his paper. "About that Smith-Martin brief… Walk me through that again, so I—"

"Harvey," Mike presses through his teeth, and that word sounds like something between a bark and a yelp.

The sound makes Harvey lay down his paper immediately and turn his head.

Mike is pale, his skin is sweaty and his eyes are squeezed shut. His knuckles are white and his hands gripping the armrests are trembling despite the tightness of his hold. He’s breathing rapidly.

"Shit," Harvey gasps and lets his paper drop to the floor. "Mike. You really _are_ scared.”

He reaches for Mike’s arm but stops in mid-movement when Mike turns his head away.

"Mike," Harvey says a little louder. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Mike just moans and presses his lips together tightly, breathing rapidly through his nose. The plane ascends further and the noise of the alighting gear being pulled in makes him flinch.

"Mike!" Harvey almost barks and puts his hand on Mike’s lower arm. "Mike, listen to me. You’ve got to breathe more slowly or you’re going to hyperventilate." He squeezes Mike’s arm and leans a little closer. "Breathe slowly. Deep breaths. Come on, Mike. Breathe with me."

Mike shakes his head quickly a couple of times, and Harvey can see the vein in his throat pulsing rapidly.

"Mike!" This time, Mike does turn his head towards Harvey, but he keeps his eyes firmly shut.

Harvey sighs and reaches for Mike’s hand. “Hold my hand.” He begins to pry Mike’s fingers away from the armrest, but Mike holds on tight.

"What?" Mike mumbles and tenses up even more.

"I said ‘Hold my hand.’ Come on, Mike. You can do it." He keeps up trying to loosen Mike’s hold on the armrest and a second later Mike’s grip is almost breaking the bones in Harvey’s hand.

"Listen to me," Harvey tries to get through to Mike over the noise of the plane and the roar of blood in Mike’s ears. "Mike. Listen to me."

Mike squeezes Harvey’s hand even tighter and moans low in his throat.

"Everything is going to be okay." Harvey’s voice is calm and gentle as he begins to stroke Mike’s hand soothingly with his thumb. "Everything is alright."

"Everything is alright," Mike echoes, his words barely more than a whisper. "Everything is alright. I’m okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay…"

A low rumble runs through the plane as it breaks through the underside of the cloud cover, and Mike’s grip on Harvey’s hand tightens even more.

"Shit. I don’t like that," Mike mutters and his breathing hitches. "Oh god, I don’t like that _at all_.”

"Mike, listen to me." Harvey leans over and runs his hand over Mike’s head once, twice, three times. "You are okay. You are safe." He sits back again a little and returns the squeeze of Mike’s hand. "There is nothing that can happen to you, Mike. I’m here."

"Harvey," Mike breathes and the tension in his body ebbs ever so slightly.

"I’m here," Harvey repeats and runs his hand over Mike’s head again. "Nothing can happen to you, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you." He places his palm on Mike’s sweaty forehead for a moment, inwardly counting to three. "I’ll take care of you, Mike. You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine."

"I’ll be fine," Mike whispers and leans into Harvey’s touch for a second before turning his head away again.

"Yeah, that’s right. You got it." Harvey’s voice is low and soothing in Mike’s ear and his body relaxes a little more. "You’re doing fine, Mike. You’re doing so good. So brave."

"Harvey," Mike whimpers and his eyes start to prickle. "Please don’t…"

"Okay," Harvey acknowledges but keeps stroking Mike’s hand with his thumb. "Okay. Tell me. Tell me what you need."

"Just—" Mike swallows. "Just this. This is good."

Harvey nods and wipes a single tear away from Mike’s cheek with the back of his hand.

"Shit," Mike mutters under his breath. "This is— I’m sorry."

"There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mike," Harvey reassures. "Nothing to apologize for."

Another rumble shakes the plane the moment it breaks through the cloud cover completely.

"I’m okay," Mike breathes, holding on to Harvey’s hand tightly.

"You are," Harvey confirms and smiles as he feels Mike relaxing further under his touch. "You most certainly are… How the hell did you get to Harvard back then?"

"Trust me," Mike groans and runs his left hand through his hair. "You don’t want to know."

Harvey nods and squeezes Mike’s hand. “Okay… Okay. Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn’t want you to know," Mike murmurs, blushing. "I didn’t want you to— I thought I could— I mean, I thought it wouldn’t be—"

Harvey nods again. “Are you feeling better now?”

"I think so." Mike clears his throat and straightens his back. "Just don’t let go of my hand just yet," he quietly adds after a short pause.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Harvey teases gently and gives Mike’s hand another squeeze. "You just let go when you’re ready, ‘kay?"

“‘Kay,” Mike confirms and draws in a deep, shaking breath.

His hand is still in Harvey’s when the landing gear touches the ground at LAX a couple of hours later. Harvey never let go either.

~fin~


End file.
